Not Perfect
by Hannah-ox
Summary: He cringed in pain as his head started to throb, he swayed gently from side to side before regaining composure. Tell her, Troy. God dammit. He was aching. Aching for her. TxG


**Okay, my first story ever. Ahh. I'm scared. Basically, I got an A* on this for my coursework in English. However, I find my teacher to be rather incompetent and I'm not sure if she gave me an accurate mark so I just wanted your opinion on it, so please nice and review, even if you hate it. Oh and I changed the characters to match Troy and Gabriella because they were my inspiration for this story while I was writing it in class. And I wasn't allowed to write about High School Musical there unfortunately. Much love, Hannah.**

The rain trickled down his sullen face, mixing with his freshly shed tears. It was raining heavily, so heavily in fact that he was the only person who dared to brave it. He felt alone, as everybody else was hiding from the rain. He welcomed it. It helped hide his tears and wash away all of the sadness. It helped cleanse him of everything.

Troy had just come from school. School. Unlike most teenagers, he preferred it to home. He was the popular guy in school, or so everybody else told him. He scoffed; he didn't feel like he deserved to be. But school was somewhere he could be himself, not what his dad wanted him to be. He was happier that way. Imperfect. But it was now Friday afternoon, school was over, and he wasn't happy about it.

He had started walking home from school, by the usual route, past the rows of familiar looking houses. However, he came to a standstill once a bunch of burly looking builders started shouting at him to go the other way. He smiled. Maybe he could go and see her. Troy had ended up walking back the other way, taking a few different streets, finally leading him to the one he had been looking for. Then started the rain. So he let himself cry. Just for a while. Just until the rain stops, he thought. He never let anybody see him cry. Jesus, he needed a painkiller.

He sat down in front of the house, flicking the now sodden sandy brown hair out of his eyes. He needed it cut. He sighed and looked all the houses around him, staring intently at the neat gardens with the evergreen hedges and the newly planted flowers. The rain was destroying them all. Pitter-patter. He laughed at the irony. Being made to seem perfect and pristine, when it was really all for nothing. Nothing could ever be perfect. Wasn't that what he was trying so desperately hard to make his dad realise? What must have been only 100 feet away from him was the epitome of perfect. She was absolutely perfect. He stood up and turned back to the house. He had only been inside a handful of times. Mostly, due to the fact he was scared of her father. Yet, he knew it was more of a home for him than any other place on Earth. The perfect house. The perfect home.

It was spectacularly beautiful; the type of house you would want to grow up in. He suspected they were all in there. He needed to see her. It felt like he was dying. And she was the only one who would make it better. She already knew his father was odd. He wondered what else his best friend had sussed out about his home life. For one thing, he never invited her over. He never talked about his father and she always sensed it when he was upset about things. He needed to be brave. He cringed in pain as his head started to throb, he swayed gently from side to side before regaining composure. Tell her, Troy. God dammit.

He missed his mother. 'She would know exactly what to say', he thought. She would tell him it was alright. Not his father. His father was always arguing with him. Always making him feel like he was worthless. His father hit him. And made him feel like he deserved to be hit. From the moment he was born, there was instantly a pressure on him to do everything right. But, he made mistakes. And when he did.. He shuddered and his stomach rewarded him with a searing pain. He gently pressed the skin beneath his dampened shirt, where fresh bruises and cuts had been formed only just last night. He knew it was getting worse. He needed it to stop, before he ended up dead.

He towards the white picket fence, hand out poised to touch it. He moved ever closer, slowly and cautiously, as though the fence might burn through his skin. He wrapped his hand around it and winced. It was all too perfect. Everything he should hate. Everything he rebelled against. Such a small word, yet so complicated. He told himself he couldn't be perfect. After all, being imperfect was what made him.

He opened the gate and ambled across the path leading to the door; the rain was getting too heavy. Beating down on his frail body. He stopped at the door and thought hard. Should he knock? Maybe use the balcony doors? He wanted to. And he needed to tell her everything. He needed her to accept him. He walked slowly around the back entrance, sneaking past the windows and the huge garden hammock that he helped set-up. He reached the tree next to the balcony and slowly began to climb up it, trying not to strain his already frail body. He jumped up to grab the branch and cringed a little as his stomach muscles flexed. He sped up towards the balcony doors silently until he got to the gorgeous French doors, which were currently covered by her light blue curtains. Better to knock, he concluded, obviously not wanting to get into trouble for this. So he ever so quietly tapped on the door, shivering and clutching his stomach.

As he waited, he noticed the flowers in the back garden. They looked lifeless. The rain above crushing them, overbearing and smothering them. Totally in control and crushing the life out of them until they didn't have the energy to fight anymore. No more feeling in them. 'How fitting', he croaked with a dry laugh.

He turned back to the door as it opened and revealed her. Even though it was dark outside, she seemed to shine with all the lightness of the Sun. She was wearing her pyjamas and he smiled coyly at her shocked face before moaning in pain as his bruises and cuts began to sear in pain.

'T-Troy?' she asked, obviously shocked to see him. 'What's wrong?' She ever so gently pulled him inside and led him towards her bed. She sat him down on it and watched his face intently as he cringed; droplets of water soaking into her newly clean bed sheets.

'Gab, I need to tell you..' he trailed off, cupping her face gently, his heavy heart receiving fatal blows with each beat. It was aching. He was aching. Aching for her.

'Troy! You're scaring me, what's going on?' she demanded fearfully.

'He hits me Gab' he blurted out quickly. There. He finally said it.

She looked up at him, a mixture of sadness and understanding written on her face 'I know' she says carefully, watching his eyes widen in shock before leaning in and kissing his cheek, 'I love you Troy. I'm always here'

She knew he was incomplete. And she wanted to be the missing piece. His features scrunched in happiness as he buried his face in her hair and sniffled. His clothes were totally drenched. He felt drowsy and light-headed. She saw tears brimming his eyes as he looked at her and smiled, leaning in to brush his lips against hers.

'I love you too'

The rain was beating down harder than ever. Pitter-patter. Washing away the mask. All that he was meant to be. But nothing mattered, as long as he had her. Just her.

**Hope you guys enjoyed. R&R? oxo **


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